


Sonne

by mimiplaysgames



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I don't know what else to tag this with, Odd Friends, Preview, Suspense, but this is a fic about Aqua playing chess with Terranort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimiplaysgames/pseuds/mimiplaysgames
Summary: Aqua took this dangerous opportunity to gamble: for her safety, and for Terra's return. But she is left with trusting her life in someone unexpected.





	Sonne

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on a series that is an AU, where Terra and MX still share the same body. I'll write more about this in the end notes. I hope you enjoy!

She had left the Realm of Darkness only to find herself in another prison. It’s times like these that Aqua wonders if there is a lesson she hasn’t quite learned yet.

Not that this place is worse or any better. Nor does she regret her decision. 

But damn, these handcuffs are uncomfortable.

The bed squeaks as she leans on one side to pick herself up. She immediately begins stretching, twisting her torso every which way. But with her wrists chained together, it’s near impossible to really release her arm and chest muscles, which are tight and sore. She pushes against the wall with her hands, turning the opposite direction in order to target her pecs, and yet it doesn’t really do much for her.

At least the bed is comfortable. That there is a view outside.

At least she can feel hunger. Or laugh at jokes.

She will sometimes hear music playing, and when it does, she is sure to take the opportunity to improvise dance moves to it. It beats practicing pirouettes while singing to herself when she was wandering the Realm of Darkness.

Yes, the Castle That Never Was will always be preferable to darkness - even if the walls are stark white, polished so much that it’s practically sterilized to any quirk or personality. Her furniture, including her bed sheets, a vanity with the mirror taken off, and a sink are all white, like the rest of the castle. But there are still many things about it that assure her she will endure this.

She is a survivor, after all.

The view outside, miles of an empty city, is as lonely as darkness, sure. Sometimes she’ll see Heartless squirming around, non-threatening from the view of her room. She hasn’t realized before how lost they really look. Rarer still, she’ll see the lesser Nobodies, managing their way through the streets in the illogical and distorted ways they move.

Today, it is cloudy over the heart-shaped moon, and it is raining. The smell of it. Even as a prisoner, the smaller things really remind her how much she has missed out on life, and it’s comforting.

Comforting enough to make her forget about the handcuffs for a while. The Organization members don’t treat her with too much cruelty, but they aren’t exactly generous either.

Not that she doesn’t understand. She is an enemy to them. They can’t allow her to summon a Keyblade, so they applied cuffs that are designed to trap her magical capabilities. Stolen contraptions, courtesy of the scientific team back in Radiant Garden. And yet the Organization members are considerate enough to wrap her wrists with bandages so that her skin won’t be dug into.

Sometimes they’ll leave her in her room for hours, and sometimes they’ll let her wander around the castle.

It’s all bread crumbs to her. Mind games. Make her depend on them, even trust a little. Just so she can break. Maybe it works. Despite how aware she is of their tactics, she can’t help but look forward to any contact she can have with them. It’s better than loneliness.

And now she is lonely.

What to do to pass the time…?

She lifts the light-weight mattress off of its frame, where a book with a simple, brown cover awaits her. An unsolicited gift, from a certain person she never thought she’d ever be allied with. 

It is a strange enough alliance that when Vanitas dropped the book on her bed without saying anything, expecting her to be immediately appreciative of it, she really couldn’t believe what was happening. 

_“What’s this?” she had asked him, picking it up to inspect the pages._

_“It’s a book, genius,” he retorted. “If you don’t want it, I’ll just take it back.”_

_“Do you even know what it’s about?”_

_“No. Should I care?"_

Vanitas cares enough to let her re-tell the story to him. It eases his boredom, too.  

At least it isn’t a monster story, which is generally what he likes to hear about. Though this is more touching than she expects him to be interested in. But it makes sense, considering that he can’t read and won’t know the difference what kind of book he brings her. To prevent him from bringing her something she may not like, she takes it upon herself to teach him to read, whenever they can spend time together outside of her room. 

It’s about a small mouse looking to find a cure for her son’s illness. She has stopped at a really compelling part – where the mouse will team up with genetically engineered rats to uncover a huge conspiracy sweeping the farmland.

Where she has left off is marked with a small piece of tissue paper, and she places the book on her lap as she eagerly skims the words. However, she only gets through two pages when someone knocks on her door three times.

On the one hand, it’s annoying to be interrupted on a story like this, but on the other, company is preferable. Marking her spot, she slips the book back under the mattress – if they find out she has been keeping herself entertained (and sane) without needing them, they’ll take it away from her.

“Come in.” The statement sounds ridiculous, since she is locked inside. 

A set of keys rummage, and the door opens. Xemnas holds a tray with a sandwich, a plate of strawberries, and a glass of water. He is quite tall and imposing, much larger than Terra is – though it’s certainly a good indicator of how big he can really get… if he ever makes it to that age. It’s impressive.

But Xemnas is nothing like Terra. Cold, distant, calculating. He can be ruthless if he wants to be, and anything she says is considered too carefully before he finally replies. Like he has to choose the right words just to get her to do what he wants. 

At first, seeing Terra’s face in a body like this, with hair as long as it is, was unpleasant. Xemnas’ smile is contorted by comparison, insincere and self-serving. From what she knows, he may not have a slice of Terra left in him anymore. After all, Nobodies grow their own hearts within time. Xemnas appears to be his own person – if not for the fact that he shares too many similarities with Xehanort.

She is essential for the final battle, being a guardian of light, so they won’t touch a hair on her head. She assures herself of this. Coming here should therefore be a piece of cake in comparison to jumping into the void after Terra. But the creepiest thing is feeling – no, _knowing_ – that Xemnas is going to hurt her one day, despite it all.

And still, she has to count her blessings. She has met him before, as a voice in the darkness, and it is a lie if she said that it didn’t help her go on. He has been the one to take down the mirror on her vanity table, and he complied pretty quickly when she asked him to, when she unable to handle the idea that she will have to face her reflection alone in this strange room. She knows that he enjoys her company.

The best thing about his visits is that he is the only one to take her to outside worlds – something to beat the monotony. It’s unnerving that the Organization wants her to depend on him the most for emotional comfort.

Yet he’s consistent enough for her to expect it. And it’s wonderful, too, to be able to travel even as a prisoner. Or does that make her weak? 

All she has to do to protect herself, then, is avoid his mind games. And try to appreciate him for who he is.

He sets the tray of food gently on her bed, grabs the chair at her table, and sits to watch her eat. Cross-legged, with his elbow on the armrest, head leaning on his hand. Like always. 

“I took it upon myself to get you fruit that you find preferable,” he says, like he has done her a favor.

She nods as a thank you and relishes the taste of the strawberry, listening to the crunch as she chews. It’s the little things.

“Where are we going this time?” she asks after swallowing a large bite of the sandwich. Simple turkey and cheese, uncooked. They’d probably treat her better if they allow her to cook for them more often. Some of the members have even demanded it.

“We won’t be traveling today.” His tone is deadpan, unimpressed with the question. Almost uncaring, but she has learned to notice the smaller inflections. Even he seems to feel a fleck of disappointment.

Her heart instantly drops. She knows that at times, they’ll leave her alone here, but to rip what is promising away from her- 

“He has requested your presence,” Xemnas says, stopping the fall of her stomach midway. 

It’s a flush of mixed emotions. Spending time with Xehanort is nauseating at worst, devastating at best. And yet this is exactly the reason why she came here. So she has to put on a brave face.

“Okay,” she says softly. “Let me just finish my meal.”

No amount of sluggish speed will prepare her to face him. Even though she has seen him several times, that initial meeting always feels like a slap to her cheek. Even as Xemnas walks her down the hallways of the castle in a slow pace, she can’t convince herself that meeting him will be more manageable this time around.

They pass by several lounge areas where she sees some of the other members. The ones who are not here might be at the Graveyard. Or in another world, ruining the lives of other people.

Who isn’t here today is Vanitas, and she mumbles under her breath a prayer that he isn’t tormenting Ventus in his free time.

Ventus. It’s really the only regret she has for coming here. But he’s safe. Sora is a good kid, always ready to put a smile on his face. Riku is kind and considerate, and she has already noticed how much Ventus looks up to him. Lea has taken a particular interest in looking out for him and making sure he keeps safe. He isn’t alone. The reason she came here was to bring their family back together, so she’ll see Ventus again. And she’ll have Terra with her.

Sitting on one of the couches, with a clipboard on his lap, is Saïx. Each member in this Organization is unique, some of which she is never intimidated by. Some seem completely unmotivated and are following along. Most are easy to read. She may never know why a person like Xigbar is interested in what is going on, and as much as she wants to worsen the scar on his face, he seems quite detached from everything. At best, he’s just a nuisance.

But Saïx is the only one she cannot read. She figures that he must have some attachments, since that he has asked about Lea’s well-being a few times. He has to have room to care.

And yet, Vanitas’ words echo in her ear.

_Don’t be stupid, that guy’s a creep. He has an agenda and will step on you if you’re in the way… I’m warning you, you’ll regret it.  
_

Saïx looks up at the two of them passing by. His face, again, unreadable. He is frowning, but this is the expression he wears all the time. Contemplative, but it’s impossible to determine what he’s thinking. He stands up, clipboard under his arm, and walks away.

It isn’t far until they pass by the younger version of Xehanort, one from a past from before he has ever met Eraqus. At least this guy, she can easily read. Judging from his glare, it turns out that he won’t be chaperoning her and the older Xehanort today – which must have been requested. His golden eyes follow her, disapproving. He has always voiced his distaste towards the older one for wanting to spend time with her. Worried that Terra’s influence is going to delay things.

Which is exactly what she wants: to drive a wedge between the old man and the youth, so they aren’t much of a supportive team together.  

It is when Xemnas finally stops at a door that her heart begins to pound. She reminds herself that this isn’t really Terra, that she can do this. She can be subject to his games and come out of it stronger.

Vanitas comes back to her mind, his voice spiteful and livid.

_The old man is more insufferable, now that he has your boyfriend’s face._

Xemnas opens the door for her, and actually closes it from behind as she steps through. She’ll be alone with Xehanort today. Finally, but too early. It’s what she has wanted all this time, and yet the lump in her throat is hard to swallow. It’s normally easier to mitigate his words when others are around her.

It’s also easier to look at him when there are others to keep her distracted. His full hair stark white, his eyes a frigid gold, his smile foreign. Terra, but not. Worse than Xemnas. An imposter, a tyrant. Someone who took her remaining family away.

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue. “I don’t see the reason why you need to be tied this way.” He pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his long, black coat and comes near her. 

His stature and height is the same, heavy and broad. Close enough to embrace. His hands are large, like they always have been, and _oh_ how she used to admire how her entire hand could fit in his palm. She wills herself to stare at his shoulder, into the fine details of the seams of the leather coat as he unclicks the links between her cuffs without actually removing them. Just so that she doesn’t have to look into his eyes. Not this close, it’s almost violating. Not when the cologne is also foreign.

This isn’t Terra, but he is somewhere in there. She just needs to focus.

Her wrists are no longer confined to each other, but they are not free from the constraints that zap her magical ability away. But that doesn’t even register in her mind, when she can stretch her arms apart, as wide as she can, in different angles, going through all of the rough spots. Her pecs are entirely grateful, but she hates that he was the one to relieve her.

Xehanort, who has made it across the room, stands next to table, his fingers pressed against the surface of a chess board, where white and black pieces are already lined up in their starting positions. A tall window looks out to the endless city beyond, the heart-shaped moon shining down on them, partly covered by clouds. Rain softly hits the glass.

“An ancient game, passed down from the Age of Fairytales. It evolved in different worlds, changing with customized rules. But you should be familiar with this version.” He takes a seat by the black pieces, making himself comfortable as he surveys the board, the gears in his mind already running. “I’m certain Eraqus has taught you how to play?”

To think she has been summoned to entertain him. But Terra has also played this game, it’s a memory they share together. Maybe she can reach him this way.

“Yes.” She takes her seat behind the white pieces. Though neither of them have ever beaten Eraqus in this game.

The Master used to take turns in teaching them the rules individually, which of course encouraged Aqua and her best friend to play against each other. Terra normally had the upper hand, since he was the first student, but she was a quick study, and soon made him sweat. Eraqus had other things in mind, and invited them to play together as a team against him. As children, they had argued out loud over what moves they were going to pull next, which of course gave the Master an easy advantage in planning his next strategy.

But his justification in teaching them this way was to create a partnership between the two, where they were able to build trust within each other – so much so they wouldn’t theoretically have to discuss their plan out loud. They would simply support the other’s approach with respect.

And in time, Aqua and Terra developed a camaraderie in chess, exactly what Eraqus had hoped for. Aqua would attempt to pick a piece, to find her shoulder held firmly – a signal that Terra had something in mind, and she would watch as he moved a piece that she hadn’t considered before. Or she would stop him from sliding one forward with her fingers brushing the back of his hand, in favor of another strategy. Silently, without an exchange of words to keep their element of surprise. Each coming in to complement what the other lacks. Terra the more offensive player, Aqua the trickier one. Terra for risk taking, Aqua for complex tactics. It was a fun distraction from their rigorous training, and they have tried what they have learned in their own sparring.

But even as a tag team of two, they have never beaten the Master.

And to think he must have gotten that effective at chess by playing against a person like Xehanort for most of his young life. The thought of it makes her sick.

The pieces on this board are all familiar to her. Even the knights, which are their favorite pieces. Together, Terra and Aqua attributed themselves to them, like guardians of light or protectors of the innocent. The pieces have unique move sets, able to traverse the board, slithering around the other pieces, like saviors. Terra chose the one that is shaped like a stylized lily, but sharpened like a blade. Aqua chose the enlarged tear drop, bordered by swirling waves. 

Two knights, dreaming of protecting the worlds together.

These pieces are the ones she will lean on the most.

“You shall start first, my dear,” Xehanort says, smiling to himself. It curls more than should be typical to see on Terra’s face, whose grins are softer.  

It always starts simple enough, with the short-handed pawns. Dispose of some, keep the others in the back pocket just in case. Keep the knights near the front line, but safe for as long as possible. Even though she has the first move, it gives Xehanort the ability to study her movements first and come up with counters, like a creeper in the dark. 

“Did you play often?” she asks, to break the silence. Small talk isn’t the kind of thing he’d care for, but she’ll try anything so that Terra can hear her voice.

Xehanort keeps his gaze on the board, his chin resting on his interlaced fingers. “Eraqus and I attempted to emulate the greater triumphs and pitfalls throughout Keyblade history, mimicking its timeline through the pieces. You can say we tested each other that way. The ancient Keyblade War, the grand design of Radiant Garden, the fall of Prydain, the birth of a refuge such as Traverse Town…”

His gaze is far away, going beyond the marble of the black and white spaces, somewhere she doesn’t know. Eraqus has never spoken of his past, so this is all new to her. Why does she have to learn about it this way?

Still, something like this is what her Master would happily engage in. But it isn’t what she and Terra liked to play.

She takes one of his pawns, but it doesn’t faze him. He doesn’t really react to anything she does.

“So neither of you pretended it was witches against valiant heroes?” It may be a dumb question, but it’s something Terra would respond to.

“Child’s play.” His retort comes as swiftly as a knock to one of her rooks. He plays confidently, and dare she say recklessly. As if he knows he will win, so everything in his field is a fallback plan in case he misses, and nothing really matters. Maybe there is an opening there for her, ultimately.

She reaches for another one of her pawns, before he interrupts her-

“I would advise against that strategy.”

He casually points toward the middle of his side of the board, where his king stands erect. It is a tall piece, marked by elegant goat horns. But that isn’t what is threatening her. It’s his bishop, designed with broadly parted kudu horns, with an ‘X’ mark taped across its face.

If she moves her pawn here, she will leave a wide-open space on her playing field to be infiltrated.

And she hates how right he is.

“I had expected you to be sharper at this, with Eraqus as your teacher,” he says calmly, his deep voice rumbling, as though it is a matter of fact.

She bites her tongue. Saying she’s been out of practice for twelve years wouldn’t garner any sympathy from him, so it’s a waste of breath.

He isn’t even watching her work this out, but is staring out the window towards the moon. Completely aloof, as if whatever she will come up with will not affect his play whatsoever.

On the right side of the board, both teams intersect, easing black along with white. She uses one of her disposable pawns to take his other bishop, marked by two blades crossing each other at the tips. But this doesn’t faze him, either. He doesn’t even check to see what she is plotting.

She takes the opportunity again to reach out to Terra. “Master Eraqus used to barter with us, promising anything we wanted if we won against him. Sweets, an over-indulgence in salted nuts, you name it. There was a time we lost and he still let us take a sip of coffee…”

Aqua tries hard not to smile at the memory, but fails herself. It was their first taste of coffee, Terra immediately liking it as he grinned. He had watched her closely as she drank, laughing at her contorted expression afterward. How bitter it was. No wonder he liked it. She has known Terra to drink black coffee every morning ever since.

Xehanort now looks at her, leaning his head onto the back of one hand, his eyes softening. But only for a moment. They narrow.

“I see,” he says, stretching that last word. “You’re trying to connect with him, aren’t you?" 

She stares him down, not allowing her lips or her brows to twitch. His face is everything she remembers and more: the way the hair parts, the eyelashes, the sculpt of his cheekbones. But she chooses not to say anything.

“Those bonds you hold onto so profoundly will tow you by chains until you drown,” he continues. How can such an ugly smile invade a beautiful face? “Who you chase is an illusion. I am the reality.”

Her tongue is glued to the top of her mouth, her gut tight as a brick. She wills herself to stay flat in her expression. “It’s your move.”

Without thinking about it, Xehanort uses a rook to take one of her knights – Terra’s – away from her and tosses it in the air as he proudly examines it. “You play very desperately, my dear, and you will lose this game if you continue this path.”

Why nothing else but _that_ specific piece – it’s almost as if he knows its significance. But she doesn’t want to acknowledge what that implies.

She won’t lose - she came here specifically to win. Of course, she doesn’t have the best plans to follow, and has decided instead to make something out of what she has. And something finally has worked out for her.

A gamble, really. 

On a clear night not too long ago, she and Vanitas played a card game together. Both were sitting against her bedroom door, on opposite sides. They’d slip the cards underneath the crack, a trading game where each one has symbols and numbers. It’s something they did as often as he could spare.

_“Do you know of any secret passages around this place?” she had asked him that night._

_“Are you serious?” He slipped a card to her. “What are you gonna do, sneak out of here with him on your back?”_

_“It’s a huge castle, there has to be something.” She inspected the ones in her hand, carefully picking the next one. It wasn’t a game she had ever played before, but she was learning fast. She slid a card back to him._

_“Beats me. I wasn’t the idiot who turned herself in to this place. Ever heard of consequences?”_

_A card waited for her under the doorway, but she didn’t take it. She shivered, staring blankly at the ones in her hand, not registering what any of them meant. She wanted to remind him that she helped him – that he owed her._

_But before she opened her mouth –_

_“I’ll see what I can find,” Vanitas had said, his voice low and hard to hear through the door._

_She calmed down, her mouth opened in stupor. With a deep breath, she realized that the light at the end of the tunnel she had been waiting for all this time could finally be seen._

_“Thank you,” she said and took the card._

_“Just play the damn game.”_

The chess game awaits her next turn. She still has her own knight, and is determined to keep it the rest of the game. It is a gamble, trusting a person like Vanitas, who has loyalties. But he doesn’t lie.

He is rude, sadistic, spiteful, angry. He probably doesn’t regard her needs very much, especially since they are inconvenient to him. Yet lying is still below him. It’s better to believe that he will find something for her.

“I’ll keep up,” she says. With a rook splayed out like a flower that reaches far enough to be a shield – a piece that Ventus has always liked - she takes one of his black knights: two halves of a gear, sliding away from each other.

She is a survivor, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a preview of the second arc of my sequel fic, "A Powerful Enough Dream." I had said at the end of my longfic that I would post this - I'm hoping to gauge reactions to this, to see if I should even continue this story or kill it before it dies. I've written enough of how I'd prefer to explore Aqua's descent, and this is essentially a look into how I would do that. I look at this as a hodge-podge of headcanons and ideas, that have their place in an outline, but are unrefined. Think of it as a trailer of sorts. I may or may not delete this, depending on the response. 
> 
> The piece is titled after Rammstein's "Sonne" ("Sun"). That may be a weird title, but it refers to a conversation I have planned between her and Terranort. It holds too much symbolic importance for me to not title it this way, but I guess that's the way it goes when you write sometimes hahaha. 
> 
> The book she's reading is certainly the Secret of Nimh, which Don Bluth adapted, who is a former Disney animator. I didn't have the energy to think of something original, so it will be the placeholder for now.  
> Prydain is the name of the world of the Black Cauldron (1985), which in this ficverse, I have headcanoned to be a world that fell to darkness centuries ago, never to be recovered again. A great failure for Keyblade history.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this was enjoyable!


End file.
